


Just Desserts

by Fernandidilly_yo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (which is why it's tagged Kuron and not Shiro), Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Developing Friendships, Friendship, Gen, I honestly don't know how to tag this fic, I only put like a sprinkling of angst, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Set somewhere in season Four, Team Bonding, Team Training, This one is fun you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-01 00:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15762939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fernandidilly_yo/pseuds/Fernandidilly_yo
Summary: It’s when Keith chances a look behind him- Lance and Shiro gaining on him, the other’s not too far behind, -that he feels butterflies burst in his chest, so many fluttering around inside that Keith convulsively swallows so they don’t force their way out of his throat in a scream.(Or; as Lance would call itExtreme Space Laser Tag)





	Just Desserts

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know where this idea came from, but here are thirteen-thousand words of it, enjoy. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
>  **Disclaimer-** I wish I owned Voltron, but alas I am just a mere peasant.

**Just Desserts-**

 

Keith is all for training exercises; getting his blood pumping and his heart racing, letting adrenaline rush through his body and allowing his instincts to take over, but overall knowing that really there isn’t anything to be afraid of other than failure.

That seems to be something that Keith has in common with the rest of the Blades (or maybe it’s just a Galra thing) training is seen as more than exercise and a way to improve yourself, it’s a fun activity and a way to get to know your fellow Blade better.  

That doesn’t mean the training isn’t still tough though if Keith made the wrong move or judgment call the other Blade Members didn’t pull back their punches or let him off the hook. The whole _Knowledge or Death_ mindset was intertwined in every aspect of the Blade, including sparring.

It had been different back at the Castel of Lions, sure the team trained, and they took things seriously, but they held their punches when they were sparring with one another, they would give each other tips and tease while they trained, and a lot of the time the sparring would turn to scuffling and wrestling on the floor of the training deck.  

So, it makes sense that when Kolivan and Allura decide to do Collaborate Training among the Paladins, Rebels, and Blades that it would somehow become a mixture of seriousness and game-play.

“There will be two squads,” Kolivan says from his place in front of everyone. The group is a good size, there are the Five Paladins, a couple handfuls of Rebels, and an even larger sum of Marmora.

The idea behind this training simulation is that all of these people need to be able to work together and adapt since they are now allied and could end up having to rely on one another in a real life or death situation.

Keith adjusts his footing as he stands to listen to Kolivan, conscious not to cross his arms. Shuriim, Kech’ll, and Arrkim stand around him, blocking Keith’s view of his tea- of the _Paladins_ over to his left.

Keith tries his best not to fidget.

“Each team will be chosen at random,” Kolivan goes on, “and will be required to wear these sensors.” As he says it he holds up what looks like a small electric button.

At that Pidge walks up next to Kolivan, the Galra making Pidge look far smaller than she is. A tick later Kolivan steps back so Pidge can address the gathered aliens with a smile before she explains what the sensors will do.

Long over-explanation short; the sensors will be placed on the limbs of each person, and a corresponding sensor will be stuck to the mock-weapons that everyone will be using. Once a sensor is shot and/or hit they will release a small electrical current that will leave the person’s limb useless for the remainder of that round.

The Exercise is basically Capture the Flag, with the Red team defending and the Blue team infiltrating. The teams will be randomized after each round so that hopefully everyone will get a chance to work with new people.

Oh, and Keith hasn’t mentioned that they are using a long forgotten Galra Base for this operation. Because apparently Allura and Kolivan agreed that it shouldn’t be on familiar grounds, anything to make this seem more real.

“Eager to see the Paladins, hm?” Kech’ll says to Keith once Kolivan has stopped talking, nudging the younger with her sharp teasing elbow.

Everyone bustles around them, lining up to get their weapons and their team assignments. Keith glares at the ground at Kech’ll’s words, moving to line up behind the older.

“Just ready to get this started,” Keith answers, trying for nonchalant.  
But that never works, not with the Blade Members, and definitely not with someone Keith has worked so closely with.

Keith isn’t sure if Galra are just perceptive when it comes to emotions, or if he is just that transparent.

He hopes it isn’t the latter.

“Hm,” Kech’ll hums knowingly, it sounds more like a purr.

Keith might’ve tried to catch her eye, but Kech’ll’s mask is up, covering her striped face and fiery eyes. It doesn’t matter though, because there is a tail wrapping around Keith’s bicep and tugging him gently to turn around.

Shuriim smiles, all sharp teeth and milky eyes at Keith. “Shall we make a wager?” he asks, unwrapping his tail from Keith’s arm. Shuriim is always trying to get people’s GAC from them, if it isn’t making bets on spars then it’s placing money on a game of cards.

“I don’t have any money Shuriim,” Keith says, turning to face him and Arrkim who stands behind Shuriim, smiling toothily at Keith.

Keith takes a step backward when he senses the line has moved, his shoulder brushing Kech’ll’s arm.

Shuriim makes a considering sound, “dessert then,” he says, waving a dismissive hand, “whoever gets tagged three times has to relinquishment their dessert to the victor for the next _movement_.”

The Marmora’s desserts don’t taste anything like you’d expect them to, and Keith has learned that the hard way. A Galra’s diet is more carnivorous than a human’s, and because of that Keith has skipped quite a few meals, has picked at and forced down even more.

He will gladly let Shuriim take his desserts for the next week.

Not that Shuriim is going to _win._

“Fine,” Keith says, placing his palm out to shake.

It’s only when the three Galra chuckle softly that Keith realizes that shaking on a deal is not a universal custom. But before he can retract his offered hand Shuriim is grabbing on, giving Keith a firm shake as he smiles.

“I want in,” Arrkim says, also grabbing onto Keith and Shuriim’s intertwined hands to shake, her claws are much longer than average, it makes Keith wonder if she uses them in combat.

“Kech’ll,” Arrkim bats at the older, “join us.”

Kech’ll is a bit older than Shurrim and Arrkim, but they are all at least twenty-five years older than Keith, it’s an odd dynamic. Kech’ll acting like an older sister or maybe aunt-like figure (though Keith doesn’t really have a frame of reference for either) While Shuriim is the mischievous one, and Arrkim seems to flipflop to whatever side she thinks will suit her best.

Keith isn’t sure exactly where he fits into this strange friendship, other than as the youngest and most inexperienced. But he hopes that isn’t how these Blades see him. They at least treat him as an equal.

Kech’ll sighs as she turns around, looking at their connected hands for a moment before she gives in and places her paw in the pile. “Don’t let this interfere with the actual goal of today,” she says, but it’s not an actual reprimand, just a reminder.

* * *

Keith is placed on the Blue Team for now, which means he will be infiltrating the base. There are twenty-two people on each team, and Kolivan will be in charge of the circumstances of each round, changing the setting and environment.  

Pidge’s sensors rest on Keith’s hips, knees, ankles, wrists, elbows, and shoulders. And then there is the main and biggest sensor that rests on a person’s chest. Keith would probably be more upset at having thirteen vulnerable spots on himself, but it’s the same for everyone else so Keith does his best not to pick at his wrist-sensors.

Shuriim hums at Keith when he sees the younger, Arrkim leaned up on Shuriim’s shoulder. “I see we are on opposing teams,” he says, smiling playfully at Keith.

Keith looks to the red arm-bands they both wear and purses his lips, “looks that way,” he says, before he feels the weight of an arm drape over his shoulder.

“The young Blade and I will enjoy your desserts,” Kech’ll purrs at her friends, and Keith finds himself smirking.

“We’ll see,” Arrkim says as she leans forward and ruffles Keith’s hair.

Keith makes a sound somewhere between a yelp and a growl, glaring at Arrkim as he steps away from her. He’s about to throw a Garlan Swear her way when something hits him bodily in the side and it’s all Keith can do not to fall to the ground.

 _“Keith!”_ Lance yells as he latches onto Keith. “Oh my god dude, it was so hard to find you, we’ve really gotta make your Marmora suit more distinct or something.”

“I think that might interfere with the whole _stealth tactic_ the Blade uses,” Keith deadpans, even if he can feel himself smiling.

Lance leans back with an eyeroll. “Hey!” he says a tick later, excited, “looks like we’re on the same team.” He nudges Keith’s blue arm-band with his own, wiggling his eyebrows at Keith.

“I think we got Hunk too,” Lance mumbles, his eyes scanning the area for the Yellow Paladin.

“Shiro?” Keith can’t help but ask.

Lance shakes his head, “nah, Pidge, Shiro, and Allura are on the Red Team,” he informs.

Keith wrinkles his nose, “we gotta take Allura down quickly,” he says, already making strategies in his head.

“You’re telling me,” Lance says, “but Pidge is a problem, especially if she’s allowed to hack in this.”

Keith rubs at his lips with the tips of his fingers, considering. “Isn’t this mostly for combat practice?” he asks.

Lance shrugs, “I mean, hacking _is_ Pidge’s combat practice.”

Keith hums, still thinking. Pidge could be a big blow to their operation, she could track them and let people like Shiro and Allura hunt them down and take them out efficiently; not to mention she could possibly corner them by locking doors or even shut down their source of communication. Yeah, maybe they should take Pidge out first after al-

“Wait,” Lance says, waving a hand over to Hunk, “hey Hunk!” he yells, “what team are you on?”

Hunk jogs over, looking slightly anxious, “I’m Blue. But did you know Shiro is on the _other_ team?!” he begins before he spots Keith and absolutely beams. _“Keith!”_ he cheers, before he grabs the smaller boy, lifting Keith into a tight hug. “How have you been, man?” he asks.

Keith not knowing what to really do, pats Hunk on the shoulder, trying to ignore the light snickers of Shuriim and Arrkim behind him, he had forgotten they were still standing there.

“Oh, you know,” Keith wheezes, “how ‘bout you?”

Hunk laughs as he sets Keith back on his feet, grabbing his shoulder when Keith stumbles. “I’m okay,” Hunk says, “except I’m about to face a bunch of Blades of Marmora and my own Teammates, that’s got me feeling a little queasy.”

Lance rubs Hunk’s back, smiling up at the other boy. “We got this Hunk, it’s like _Extreme Space Laser Tag.”_

“Oh god,” Hunk moans into his hands.

Keith bounces on the balls of his feet, restless and jittery with excitement, he’s glad Hunk and Lance are on his team. “You’re gonna do fine Hunk,” Keith tries for reassuring.

“Excuse me,” suddenly Arrkim is leaned up against Keith, a sharp smile in her voice. Everything about Arrkim is sharp, with her thin chin and upturned nose, long claws and pointed ears. “Are you going to introduce us Keith?” she asks.

Keith blinks up at the Galra, letting his feet go flat on the ground again. “Uh, yeah, um,” he turns back to Hunk and Lance who are staring at the three Galra that appeared behind Keith.

“This is Arrkim,” Keith says, gesturing. “And that’s Shuriim and Kech’ll.” He points with his thumb, each one of the Blades bowing their heads when he says their name, Kech’ll even lowers her mask.

“It’s nice to finally meet the Paladins of Voltron,” Kech’ll greets, the dark purple of her stripes are outlined in white, matching her hair, and making her look striking.

“Are you Keith’s friends?” Hunk asks the question makes Keith’s shoulders stiffen.

“Of course,” Arrkim says without pause, and something shocked and warm blooms in Keith’s chest, making him flinch in surprise.

“We watch out for this kit,” she says, ruining it a moment later, and to make it worse Shuriim then rubs his thick-tail through Keith’s hair in a similar way to what Arrkim had done earlier.

Keith pushes away from them both, glaring as he hurriedly combs his hair back down. “You two watch your backs in there,” he says.

But the damage is done, and Lance is sniggering loudly. “Did you just call mister scowl-pants over there, _‘kit’!?”_ he asks, eyes dancing with mirth.

“He is by far the youngest of all the Blades, it’s only natural to refer to him as The Kit,” Arrkim says, and she makes it sound like a cultural difference- like she doesn’t know what she’s doing. But she _does._

“Oh my god,” Hunk breathes the words from behind his hands. Lance is already bent in half, gasping between laughter.

Keith crosses his arms and tries to force a scowl. “You two be glad I’m on your team,” he says, no real heat behind the words.

* * *

Keith’s ducked down behind a low-wall, trying to hide in the shadows, Lance and Matt leaned up against him, Matt’s knee pressed against Keith’s lower back.

Kech’ll and another Blade (Keith can’t remember his name) and Olia had decided that because they don’t have a lot of information about the base in general, only knowing that the flag is located on the West Side, that it would be best if they split up into smaller teams.

There are two teams of five, and three teams of four.

Keith is in a group of five, Lance, Matt, Nyma, and a Frog-guy, make up his team, and their job is to figure out the guard’s rout around the base and send back the info to the main-group.

Not the best plan, but they don’t have a lot of time or much information.

“Shouldn’t they be patrolling?” Matt whispers, his face hidden behind a mask with one orange tech-goggle in the middle, similar to the two purple ones on Keith’s Marmora mask.

“Yeah, you don’t think they’re just guarding the flag, do you?” Lance asks a moment later. “That wouldn’t be exactly fair.”

“This isn’t supposed to be fair,” Keith says. The Empire isn’t going to go easy on them either, they can’t expect their friends to pay them any favors- this is training, not a game. “But Kolivan wouldn’t let them just guard the flag, they have to play this realistically too.”

“If we set explosives off on the East side it could draw them out,” Nyma suggests.

“But that will also alert them of our presence,” Keith reminds. Of course the Red Team _knows_ they are here, but they’re not allowed to flat out attack the Blue Team unless given a valid reason.

This whole thing was kind of confusing.

“Patrols grow thicker the closer to the target we get,” someone whispered over the comms a moment later, voice gurgled, “we need a new plan of action.”

Kech’ll spoke on the line then, “an ambush would not be advisable, with our limited information we don’t know how many men they might have.”

It was funny listening to them reason over the comms, they did a good job of playing out the scenario, of course they knew there were twenty-two people on the other team, they also knew that an ambush wouldn’t work when the other team was expecting them.

“If we drew some of them to one side and overpowered them with numbers they might send more guards that way. Then a couple people could split off and go for the flag while they’re distracted,” Lance suggests.

He has his contemplative face on, Lance has always been good at assessing situations, at looking before he jumps in. Keith has always been the opposite, running in head first and figuring out how he’s going to land as he’s falling.

Its why Lance makes a great right-hand man, it’s also why Keith didn’t cut it as the leader.

“I don’t like the idea of throwing our people into a fight,” Kech’ll says, but she sounds considering, “however, I think with our time limitations it might be our best option. Teams Three, Four, and Five head to the North Side,” she commands, “Teams One and Two, I need you—”

And then there’s sharp unexpected static in Keith’s ears, Matt flinching at his back, and Nyma gasping quietly to his right. The comms ring loudly and then there’s a new voice in Keith’s ear.

“Hello, rebels,” Pidge greets.

“Flying _quiznak,”_ Lance mutters behind Keith.

“Pull back now and we might consider taking mercy on you,” Pidge says, and she is doing a fantastic job of sounding sadistic. It makes Matt snort a laugh at Keith’s back.

“You have five dobashes to surrender yourselves or we will be forced to attack, this is your final warning.” And with that, the comms fizzle back out to silence and they are left with even less time.

“Matt,” Keith says, turning back to the other boy, “can you hack into the mainframe and lock Pidge out?” he asks, his head buzzing.

Matt rubs at his chin, “I don’t know if I can completely lock her out, but I can at least distract her long enough to be a problem.”

“Good,” Keith says, “here’s the plan.”

* * *

Five minutes in the grand scheme of things is a very short amount of time.

It barely gives Keith’s team enough time to infiltrate a random room with a computer system, and it’s definitely not enough time to take out the three Red Teamers that are stationed there.

Pidge had apparently thought to guard all the computers.

Lance makes the first move, rolling into the doorway ahead of them all and shooting out a blast that hits the main-sensor on a rebel’s chest- the other man automatically out of the game.

Then Nyma is charging in, her eyes going wide as she takes in Rolo pointing a gun at her. He shoots out a blast but Nyma rolls to the side, clipping Rolo’s stomach with one of her elbows as they continue to grapple with one another. 

But Keith can’t worry about that, because next he and the Frog-guy are running, while Matt charges for the computers at full speed, they’re five minutes have to be nearly complete by now.

Keith slices his fake-knife at another Marmoran, dodging when the other Galra’s sword almost clips Keith’s shoulder. For an instant Keith thinks the other Blade must not realize that the Frog-guy is behind him, about to shoot him point-blank.

But then the Marmoran is dropping to the floor onto his palms and kicking out in a wide sweep of boots, making the Frog-guy lose his balance and catching Keith on the knee with his blade.

Keith stumbles, his knee going numb as the sensor is triggered, he has to readjust his footing, try to take the guy out before he makes it to his feet.

But he doesn’t have to, because Lance is shooting the man’s sensors on his hips and the Galra is left without his legs- still technically in the game, but incapacitated.

Keith grunts, trying to straighten his legs, but his right knee won’t support him, won’t lock into place. It’s going to suck having to fight with that for the rest of the round.

Keith looks down at the other Blade, “sorry man,” he says as he touches his knife to the man’s chest-sensor, booting him from the game.

Rolo is also down and out, Nyma panting above him and holding her shoulder. “Injuries?” Keith asks, glancing at his current teammates and trying to assess the damage.

“My left arm got hit,” Nyma confesses.

“Ankle, _ribbit,”_ the Frog-guy says.

“Lance?” Keith asks.

“I’m good,” the newly Red Paladin smiles, clipping his mock-gun back to his hip. “What about you mullet man—”

The question is cut off by static in their ears. However, it isn’t Pidge’s voice that comes over the comms this time, but Allura’s. “Rebels,” she says, “our patience has worn thin,” she sounds cold, calculating.

Keith is glad that they are usually on his side.

Allura and Pidge can be terrifying.

Keith hobbles over to Matt, widening his eyes at the other in a _‘hurry up’_ kind of expression. Matt makes an overly exaggerated face at Keith, his fingers flying over the keyboard in a way Keith’s only seen Pidge’s do.

“Come to the bridge now, or face the consequences,” Allura goes on, and Lance is fidgeting behind Keith, anxious and jittery.

“Matt,” Lance whisper-whines to the other, urgent.

“I’m almost—” Matt begins before the connection cuts of mid-sentence. _“Ha!”_ Matt exclaims, “I have them locked out of the system for now, but that won’t last long,” he says still typing.

Keith immediately turns around, “You two,” he says, pointing to Nyma and Frog-guy. “Stay here and protect Matt,” he orders, “Matt, keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Roger that,” Matt replies, brows furrowed and voice tight.

“Lance,” Keith addresses, “you and me head for the flag. Hopefully if Kech’ll and Hunk’s team are doing the same one of us will get there in time.”

“Yessir, boss-man sir,” Lance says, and then salutes Keith teasingly.   

Keith does his best not to limp as he smacks Lance on the shoulder and goes through the door. “Matt, if you can, lock this door from the inside, try to keep them on their toes as long as you can. We may not be able to make contact, but neither can they.”

* * *

“You went all Shiro in there,” Lance whispers as they turn down yet another corridor, not running, but not hiding either, there isn’t much use being stealthy when the enemy knows you are here and are actively searching for you.

“What?” Keith asks, trying to keep up with Lance’s long strides. It wouldn’t be a problem if his knee was listening to him, but the sensor on his knee is sending random signals to his ankle and hip as well, because _of course_ Pidge would make the tech mimic a real injury as closely as possible.

“You just took over and made a plan that could actually save the mission,” Lance says, eyes on the hallway in front of them.

“You’re the one that came up with the original plan in the first place,” Keith points out.

Lance hums, “so we’re both awesome then.”

Keith rolls his eyes even if Lance can’t see it and trots down the hallway. They haven’t run into anyone yet, which hopefully means the rest of Team Blue is on the North Side like they’re supposed to be- that, or this is some sort of trap.

Keith turns the next corner and feels his heart lurch as a false-blade goes zooming at him, Keith dodges on pure instinct, letting out an undignified yelp as he slams into Lance to push them behind a wall.

“Hello, Little Blade,” Shuriim greets as he runs toward them, his tail scooping up his knife and flipping it around to land back in his hand, slashing at Keith as Keith struggles to get his feet under him.

A tick later Arrkim is running forward, Lance down on one knee shooting at her as she goes. But Arrkim is fast and it doesn’t take much for her to spin out of the way, her blade held out to hit Lance’s chest-sensor.

Keith doesn’t think, just slashes at Shuriim as he throws his left arm in front of Lance, his elbow going numb a moment later. If Arrkim is shocked by Keith’s actions she doesn’t show it, just rolling to the side when Lance shoots at her again.

“That’s one hit for me,” Arrkim says, and Keith groans having forgotten about their bet for a moment there.

Shuriim hisses as he lunges for Keith, and the younger only has a moment to get his blade ready, right knee busted up and left hand not listening to him, he’s off balance and shaky as he does his best to fend off the larger Galra.

“Are you already injured?” Shuriim inquires as he stabs at Keith, trying for his chest-sensor.

Keith uses the wall behind him to prop himself up, aware of Lance and Arrkim also closing in on him. Shuriim slams his sword into Keith’s and Keith’s knee threatens to buckle under him at the strain, so, he lets himself crumple, throwing his knife to his fumbly left hand and catching Shuriim in the hip.

“One for me,” Keith grunts over a breathy chuckle. And then Shuriim is on top of him, elbow hitting Keith in the jaw and weight knocking the wind out of him.

Keith gasps, feeling his left leg also fold under him. Looks like he and Shuriim are one for one then. Unfortunately, Shuriim’s blade is only inches away from Keith’s main-sensor, automatic kick from the exercise.

Suddenly Lance is there and shooting Shuriim in the arm and causing the Galra to drop his fake-sword, and then he’s finishing him off, hitting Shuriim in the chest-sensor.

Keith pants as Shuriim falls back on top of him, a moment later the Galra lets his mask fall, glancing up at Keith with milky-yellow eyes, unperturbed to be squished on top of the half-human. “Damn,” he says.

“Maybe get off me?” Keith grunts, trying to push the Galra off with his good hand.

“So averse to touch,” Arrkim says from somewhere on Keith’s left, making a teasing _‘tsk’_ noise.

“We gotta go, Keith,” Lance urges, sweat glistening on his brow as he tries to pull Keith from under Shuriim, the Galra finally moves, sitting half sprawled next to his fallen comrade.

“I’ll just slow you down, go without me,” Keith says, shaking his head. He only has one arm at this point, and he can hardly feel his right leg anymore, his left will be completely useless soon enough, he doubts he could walk this way, let alone run.

“We’re supposed to treat this like a real mission,” Lance says, tone going hard, eyes narrowed, “and I wouldn’t leave you behind on a real mission.”

Keith rolls his head along the wall, a pressure blooming in his chest as Lance looks down at him with something close to apprehension, fingers clenching tightly to his gun.

Keith lets his mask fade away as he talks. “If this was a real mission we would have pulled back out when things started going wrong,” Keith reassures.

Lance’s mouth twists, his expression unhappy.  

“Look,” Keith says, struggling to sit up straighter, “we don’t have time for this, the whole team is counting on you,” he tells Lance, “get the flag and then you can come back for me and get me to medical.”

Keith can understand Lance’s reluctance, this is supposed to simulate a real battle. And in a real battle, Keith knows he could never just leave an injured man behind, bleeding on the floor with two corpses of their enemies flanking his sides.

But the rules are a little bit different here and they have limited time.

“Go Lance,” Keith says, waving his good arm at the Red Paladin.

Lance takes in a breath and blows it out loudly, “fine,” he says reluctantly, “don’t die while I’m gone.” And then he’s running away, pounding footsteps loud in the otherwise quiet hallway.

Keith sighs and lifts up his blade to tap it against his own chest-sensor, the moment he does the electrical current numbing his legs and arm dissipates. Keith rubs at his right knee as it’s filled with pins and needles, grimacing a little.

“There will be a time when you are forced to choose between the life of a teammate and your own,” Shuriim says after a dobash has passed, sounds of yelling and fighting far off in the distance.

Keith looks down at his lap, his fake-blade still clutched in his hand. “I know,” he says, but he also knows he would choose his teammate’s life over his own without a seconds thought.

He doesn’t tell Shuriim or Arrkim that.

By the silence that stretches over the hallway though, Keith thinks they already know.

* * *

“That was so intense,” Hunk says as he flops onto a bench, lying face down with his nose smooshed up against Lance’s knees.

“Tell me about it,” Lance replies, hands playing with Hunk’s hair. “I mean, Keith freakin’ _died,”_ he says with feeling, stretching out the last word.

Keith looks up from his place sat on the floor, Pidge leaning against his shoulder. “I didn’t _die,”_ he says, lips pinching. “I was just injured…severely,” he tacks onto the end.

“Well _I_ died,” Pidge grunts, “Lance came in and quiznaking _shot me_ ,” she glares at the older boy. “You better hope we’re on the same team next, noodle-boy.”

Lance makes an offended sound, choking on the noise of it. _“NOODLE BOY?!”_ he screeches. “How dare you! Y-you little gremlin!” He jabs a finger at Pidge, she makes a pathetic attempt at biting it.

Everyone gets a fifteen-minute break to collect their new team assignments and rest for a few minutes, Lance and Pidge had found Keith pretty quickly and dragged him over to this bench, Hunk having spotted them not too long after that.

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” Lance says, crossing his arms, “Shiro took me out like two seconds after that.” His eyes go a little distant at the statement, he stares up at nothing for a tick. “It was the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced,” he whispers.

“It’s alright buddy,” Hunk reaches up and pats Lance’s shoulder, it’s odd since Hunk’s head is in Lance’s lap.

“I was so close to the flag,” Lance goes on, voice reverent, “I could almost _touch it.”_

Pidge smacks Lance on the leg, making the older yelp. “Well, Shiro killed you and my team won, so _tough,”_ she smiles, pleased with herself.

The round had gone on for another ten minutes after Lance had left Keith in that hallway. Pidge apparently broke through Matt’s hacking and was able to shut him out of the system and things went downhill from there.

Lance had made it to the flag, shooting Pidge as he raced in and going for the win- when Shiro flat-out _tackled him_ , Keith had watched the footage, and it looked a bit brutal.

Once Shiro was on top of Lance it wasn’t even a fight.

Kech’ll and one of her teammates almost made it to the flag as well, but by then the time limit was up, and they had lost. The pretend-backup that Pidge had requested before she ‘died’ had arrived and the Blue Team was done.

“Hey Keith,” Lance lightly kicks at Keith’s outstretched leg to get his attention. “What was all that ‘one hit’ stuff you and your friends were talking about?” he asks.

Oh, Keith had almost forgotten about that. “Um,” Keith starts, giving a shrug. “We kinda made a bet,” he says.

Lance’s eyes light up, he leans forward, dislodging Hunk’s head. “What kind of bet?” he asks.

Keith shifts, feeling Pidge’s eyes on him too. “Uh, we have to tag each other three times,” he mumbles.

“What do you get if you win?” Pidge blurts.

“Whoever wins gets the other person’s dessert for a week,” Keith shrugs again, feeling wary.

Lance makes a thoughtful noise, rubbing at his cheek. “We should do that,” he says.

Keith wrinkles his nose, “make a bet?”

Lance smiles, clapping his hands together obnoxiously-loud. _“Yeah,_ but instead it could be a Free for All, and people just continue to get eliminated until the last person wins.”  

“What does the winner get?” Pidge asks again.

“To Win?” Keith says.

Pidge smacks him on the shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Lance hums ignoring them both, “hey Hunk,” he says, tapping the Yellow Paladin’s upper back, “would you make a cake for the winner?”

Hunk gives a thumbs up from his place on top of Lance, his face still hidden in his friend’s thighs.

“Okay,” Lance says, eyes sparkling, “Hunk will make a cake.”

“What if Hunk wins?” Keith wonders.

“You want in the bet dude?” Lance asks his friend, looking down at the other boy.

“You guys are all crazy,” Hunk says, “this day is already stressful enough without adding _bets_ on top of things, No Thank You.”

Lance shrugs, not seeming surprised. “Alright, that’s settled.”  

“You think Allura and Shiro want in?” Pidge asks, leaning in towards Lance with a spark in her eye.

Lance stands up, apparently forgetting a certain Yellow Paladin was still slumped over his lap, Hunk makes a sad whining noise when Lance almost knocks him over.

“I’ll ask Allura, you ask Shiro!” and then both the Green and Red Paladin are off, running in opposite directions.

Keith sits on the ground, completely silent for a minute, Hunk still laying on the bench.

“Am I…” Keith starts, “am I in two corresponding bets?” Keith mutters after a tick.

“Looks that way,” Hunk replies.

Keith rubs at his eyes, _“quiznak,”_ he whispers harshly. 

* * *

So, Keith is an idiot.

He isn’t actually sure if he technically agreed to be in this bet with his old team (not that he would have said no otherwise) but now on top of already being in an intense battle simulation, he has to watch for not Three other opponents, but _Eight_.

Because while Hunk might’ve declined, Pidge asked her brother and now Matt is in on it too. Which means Keith has three Galra, a Rebel, and four Paladins out for his metaphorical-blood.

“You are tense,” Shuriim notes, nudging Keith’s shoulder with his own. “Nervous?” he teases.

Keith hopes that his glare is prevalent even through his mask, “no,” he says, “it’s just a dumb bet, I’m fine.”

Shuriim hums but doesn’t say anything else, Keith does his best to ignore the knowing silence that drifts between them.

Keith is on the Red Team this time ‘round, so defense instead of infiltration. Which suits him just fine, he doesn’t have to sneak in this time, just wait for Pidge to give him a heads up so he can hunt down the others.

At the moment Keith has Pidge, Matt, Shuriim, and Allura on his team, along with a lot of other people he doesn’t know or care to learn the names of.

The Base is half shut down this time, the Eastside having been ‘damaged’ and under repairs in this scenario. Which means fewer places for the other team to hide, but also less tech for Pidge to use to their advantage.

So, for now, Keith and Shuriim are scouting out the surrounding area holding the flag while a few others do the same out further. The halls are somewhat like a circle so there are teams in each intersecting ring.

They’ve already been at it for ten dobashes and there hasn’t been any activity from Team Blue. It has Keith on edge, something should have happened by now, there isn’t a time limit for this scenario, but _still._

“They’re being too quiet,” Keith says, words hushed.

“We cannot actively search for them unless we are given a valid reason,” Shuriim says calmly.

Keith may view Shuriim as a slightly obnoxious friend with a gambling issue, but overall, he is still a Blade, one who has been fighting for longer than Keith has been alive.

“I don’t like waiting,” Keith says, forcing himself not to cross his arms. If this was Kolivan Keith would never voice something like that, he’s already had the Patience Lecture one too many times.

“Nor do I,” Shuriim agrees, and that’s why Keith let himself say it; because he knows that Shuriim would rather fight than wait, just like Keith.

"Hey guys,” Matt’s voice sounds over the comm, “somethings wrong, Hexx and Cray haven’t checked in and we can’t get ahold of them.”

Keith stops to press a finger to his ear, “Shuriim and I will check it out,” he answers, glancing over to Shuriim in question, the Galra nods.

“The Base is quiet,” Pidge says next, “but somethings off. Be careful.”

With that Keith and Shuriim stalk off, blades at the ready and footsteps silent. The Base is hardly lit, shadows only interrupted with dull purple lighting every fifteen feet or so.

In this setting the Base isn’t fully functional, putting Keith’s team at a disadvantage. It’s easier to infiltrate in shadow, harder to defend in the dark.

Keith does his best not to clench his jaw in anticipation.

It’s when Keith is scanning the dark hallway- his eyes stopping on what he _thinks_ is movement -that Pidge’s voice calls frantic, “the cameras are on loop! I don’t have eyes down there, get ou—”

And then someone is jumping out at Keith, he can’t help his yelp of surprise as his feet are swept out from under him. Keith recovers quickly though, rolling to the side and swiping out with his mock-blade in the same move.

His eyes going wide as he finds Shiro standing above him.

“Keith,” Shiro greets, something close to a smile on his face.

Keith huffs, the sound might’ve been a laugh in a different situation, “Shiro,” he says back.

And then they’re at it again, Keith jumping up and slicing forward with his knife at the same time that Shiro kicks out, almost catching Keith in the chin before the younger is able to spin away.

The hallway is too cramped for a fight like this, Keith can’t seem to get the upper hand, not with Shiro crowding him against the wall, Shuriim and Kech’ll fighting to Keith’s left with large swings of their swords and fancy footwork, there isn’t enough _space_.

Shiro’s fist snaps out and Keith only has a moment to move, Shiro’s knuckles cracking against the shell of his ear. Keith growls low in his throat, angry at himself for allowing Shiro and Kech’ll to get the jump on him in the first place.

“Stealth,” Keith says around a panting breath, “your idea or Kech’ll’s?” he asks, trying to elbow Shiro in the stomach but having to pull back as Shiro tries to push him into a corner.

“Mutual agreement,” Kech’ll calls from where she and Shuriim are going at it, she twists the other’s tail when it comes too close to smacking her in the face.

Keith ducks under a blow and makes himself spring back up a moment later, feeling Shiro hit him in the nose at the same time Keith catches him on the shoulder, taking out one sensor.

“Ha,” Keith laughs, happily-surprised, his face still stinging, before he rolls to the side to get into a better fighting position.

“Nice work,” Shiro says, bending his knees as he grins at Keith with mirth in his eyes.

Keith can’t help but smirk as he says, “learned from the best,” before pouncing forward.

It goes like that for a while, Shiro trying to trap Keith in a corner, Shuriim and Kech’ll spinning around one another in a familiar dance- they’re all too evenly matched, they know each other too well, something has to change if anyone’s going to win.

 _“Check!”_ Shuriim calls once Keith has wiggled his way nearer to him, it’s their code to switch opponents in the middle of the fight, for times just like this.

Keith presses himself closer to Shuriim and feels the other’s tail wrap around his waist a tick later, then he’s hefting Keith in the air so he can tackle Kech’ll in one fell swoop.

Kech’ll lets out a loud chortle as Keith slams into her and then they are rolling to the ground, blades clashing together as Keith tries to tag her chest-sensor in a brazen move, or a dumb one, but those traits seem to go hand and hand.

Or at least they do where Keith is concerned.  

“Have to be faster than that Little Blade,” Kech’ll says and then she’s flipping them and pinning Keith to the ground, legs wrapping around his middle and shoving his right arm up against his shoulder-blades in a painful maneuver.

Keith tries to switch his knife into his left hand but then Kech’ll is setting off the sensor in Keith’s left wrist, leaving Keith nothing to do but struggle pathetically underneath her.

“Stop or he dies,” Kech’ll calls to Shuriim.

But in the same moment Shuriim is tackling Kech’ll off of Keith, his tail grabbing onto Keith’s fallen blade as he slices at Kech’ll with his own, and then he’s setting off Kech’ll’s main-sensor with Keith’s blade, booting her from the exercise within seconds.

Kech’ll lets her mask fall, “well done,” she says, looking down at Keith’s blade still held by Shuriim’s tail, “I did not anticipate that.”

Keith pushes himself up into a sitting position, glancing over to Shiro who’s on the floor rubbing at his shoulder. “Good fight,” Keith says before he hefts himself up onto his feet, grabbing his blade from Shuriim a moment later.

“Pidge,” Keith presses a finger to his ear, “we were just attacked by two rebels, how’re we lookin’?”

“We’re missing four people and you and another team both confirmed the base is under attack,” Pidge answers, sounding slightly distracted.

“Can you get any information out of your guys?” Matt asks a moment later, “we might be able to counterstrike if we know what they’re planning.”

At that Keith glances up to Shuriim, he knows that Kech’ll is out, but he isn’t sure if Shiro is completely downed or just severely injured. Not that Keith thinks Shiro will talk either way.

“He is alive,” Shuriim confirms the unspoken question.

Keith turns to Shiro, he thinks about letting his mask fall, confronting Shiro face to face, but Keith decides against the idea before the thought can even solidify. He stalks over to Shiro, crouching down in front of the man, actively trying not to fidget.

“What’re you planning?” Keith asks, blunt, to the point, there’s no reason to tiptoe around the question.

Shiro actually laughs, “are we really playing it this way?”

Keith crosses his arms loosely over his knees, balancing on the balls of his feet, doing his best to act like he isn’t somewhat uncomfortable with this situation. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he tries again.

“You know I’d never give my team up,” Shiro says, seeming to look through Keith’s mask and straight into his eyes.

Keith stays silent for a moment, letting Shiro’s words fill up the hallway before he stands back up, pressing his comm again. “We have someone to interrogate, tell Allura to be ready. Be there in four dobashes.”

Shiro chokes on his next breath and Keith pretends not to notice, he looks to Shuriim before gesturing to Shiro, “can you carry him?” he asks.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Shiro mutters, almost to himself.

Keith’s glad Shiro can’t see him biting his lip to keep himself from laughing.

* * *

They bring Shiro back to their base of operations and hand him over to Allura with little to no trouble, the Princess had taken Shiro with a gleam in her eye and a smile on her lips.

Keith has no idea how interrogation works in this training exercise, but he doesn’t really want to know.

“Someone’s hacked the mainframe and set something to disrupt my feed,” Pidge says, miffed and pouting slightly. “I think I’ve located the problem, but I need to physically go to the source to fix it,” she goes on.

“How long is that going to take?” a fellow Blade asks from the corner.

Pidge pinches her lips together, “I could fix it in three dobashes, probably,” she goes to push up her glasses, but she isn’t wearing them, choosing to tuck her hair behind her ears instead. “I’d need someone to watch my back.”

“I’ll go,” both Matt and Keith say at the same time.

They glance to one another, blinking in bewilderment for a moment.

“You should stay,” Keith says, “if you and Pidge get caught we lose all tech support, we need at least one of you at our side.” Keith is disposable in a way that neither Pidge nor Matt are, they both bring a lot to the team; Keith doesn’t voice those thoughts though.

“Keith’s right,” Pidge says, grabbing her helmet, “if we get caught then you’ll be in charge of holding up the fort,” she smiles at that, smacking Matt playfully on the arm.

Matt makes a disgruntled face, “well don’t get caught then,” he says, “that sounds like a lot of pressure.”

Keith lifts up his hood at the same time that Pidge seals on her helmet, and then they’re out the door, steps aligning in a way only months of training could ingrain into them, falling into sync in a way only people who have fought together can do.

It’s like old times.

It makes Keith’s stomach twist with melancholy, or maybe that’s despondent nostalgia. Whatever it is, Keith does his best to push it down, trying to ignore the metallic taste in his mouth.

* * *

The hallways are still eerie quiet as Keith and Pidge make it through the corridors. Keith can’t help but feel like his footsteps are too loud, his breathing scraping against the silence.

“It should be just up here,” Pidge mutters, gesturing ahead of them, she’s occupied with the little tablet in her hand, scanning for _what_ , Keith doesn’t know.

Keith has his blade out, on guard and constantly looking around for enemies, he refuses to get jumped on again, though this does feel like the prime opportunity for an ambush.

Keith’s a little on edge.

“Okay,” Pidge says and then pries a panel off the wall and begins messing around with its innards, “I think they planted something in here, I need to either find it and turn it off manually, _or_ , figure out a way to jam it’s signal so it can stop jamming _my_ signal.”

Keith scrunches up his nose, “just do it fast,” he says.

“Uh-huh,” Pidge rolls her eyes, “you just do your thing and I’ll do mine.”

Keith takes in a breath and nods, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans up against the wall. He rubs at his numb hand as he watches for enemies, hoping that the small ‘injury’ won’t cause him too many problems if he does have to fight.

They had to go out to the third ring of the base, which makes Keith uncomfortable, they’re farther away from their teammates than he’d prefer, but there’s no way around that.

Circumstances are not always ideal.

“I’m gonna have to hack its signal,” Pidge says after about a minute has passed. “I don’t think there’s a way around it.”

Keith straights, “can you do it?” he asks.

“Pffft,” Pidge scoffs, “do you know who you’re talking to?” she says, giving Keith a mock-glare over her shoulder.

“Yeah, Keith,” Keith’s eyes go wide, he spins around at the new voice, “don’t doubt Pidge’s hacking skills,” Lance says, all smirk and waggled eyebrow.

Keith growls, not at Lance, at himself, for getting distracted, for allowing Lance to sneak up on him. “Lance,” he says, not a greeting, just a begrudging acknowledgment.

“Keith,” Lance says back, and then he glances at Pidge. “Pidge,” he greets, cocking his head to the side.

“Lance,” Pidge huffs, rolling her eyes.

“HUNK!” another voice yells, making Keith’s fists clench at his sides, and there’s Hunk at the other end of the hallway, all broad shoulders and large gun held in front of him.

“What?” Hunk asks when everyone turns to look at him, “I’ve seen Shrek Two I know how this goes.”

Lance laughs lightly at the joke, the sound causes Keith to face his direction again. Pidge stays facing Hunk, making a growling noise in the back of her throat, “well if we’re all done with introductions,” she gripes.

They all stand there silently for a tick, no one daring to move, and then all quiznak breaks loose.

Lance shoots at the same moment Keith dives out of the way. Pidge rolls to the side at the same time, and then Keith and she are pressed together, both trying to use Pidge’s shield for cover.

Keith likes the Marmora suit, it’s more comfortable and better designed for stealth, but it does have its flaws. For example, Keith would give a lot for his old shield right about now.

“So, I take it this was a trap,” Pidge grunts, still fending off blasts with her shield.

Keith does his best to help, trying to deflect blasts with his sword where he can, but Lance is a good shot, and Hunk’s not bad either. This isn’t a fight they can win, not unless they’re willing to make some sacrifices.

“We need to run,” Keith pants out to Pidge, feeling her straining against his back.

“What?!” Pidge all but squawks, “who _are_ you?” she says, “you- Keith Kogane -want to retreat?”

Keith does his best not to roll his eyes, “one of us is gonna get shot in the back if we try to take this close quarters,” he grunts, still fending off Lance’s attack. “We need to get the upper hand somehow, and that’s not gonna happen with them on all sides.”

Pidge takes a breath, “fine,” she grumbles, “what’re you thinkin’?”

“We need to storm Lance, try to get past him and run for it.”

“They’ll just chase us down, it won’t matter,” Pidge points out.

“We’re not trying to lose them,” Keith grits through his teeth, “we’re just trying to even out the playing field a little.”

“Fine,” Pidge says again, “on three, I’ll cover your back while you go at Lance.”

They say it together then,

“One,”

“Two,”

_“Three!”_

Keith springs up and runs at Lance, watching the other boy’s eyes go wide as Keith slides forward and tries to take Lance’s legs out from under him. It doesn’t work, but it gets Lance to stop shooting for a moment.  

Hunk’s shots can still be heard in the background, and though Keith can’t see Pidge, he trusts her to watch his back, he has to, that’s what teammates are for.

Keith smashes his blade into Lance’s gun, and then he’s pushing forward, using his good hand and the forearm of his other to press all his weight into it, slamming Lance’s back into the wall as he yells, “now Pidge!” and then they’re turning the corner and running as fast as they can.

 _“WHAT!?”_ Lance screeches from behind them.

“Now what!?” Pidge pants beside Keith, eyes wide and searching.

Keith has never been one for planning, he just makes it up as he goes most the time, it’s what’s kept him alive this long, it’s also what will probably get him kill eventually.

Shots ring out behind them and Keith zig-zags down the hallway, trying his best to make himself a harder target. One of those blasts is going to hit them sooner or later.

Keith scans the dark hallway for anything that could help them, his mind racing and heart pounding as he runs. Both of them aren’t going to make it, but even if Keith stayed behind, it wouldn’t take long for Hunk or Lance to run after Pidge.

She has to have a solid get away.

That’s when Keith spots the vents at the end of every hallway. “Pidge,” he says over a harsh breath, “you see those vents?” he asks.

“Yeah?” Pidge answers, question and exertion coloring her tone.

“At the next one I’m gonna lift you up and you’re going to escape that way,” Keith tells her.

“What about you?” Pidge demands.

Keith huffs, “look, either neither of us get outta this or _you_ go back and tell the other’s what happening,” Keith grits out.

“I hate this,” Pidge says, but it isn’t a refusal.

As they’re approaching the next vent Keith skids to a halt and laces his fingers together, but his left hand is fumbly and numb, it takes more effort than it should to get his fingers to cooperate with him. 

Keith does his best not to panic as Lance and Hunk’s pounding footsteps get closer.

Pidge only takes a tick to step into his interlocked hands and it takes all of Keith’s effort not to lose his grip. Any other day and lifting Pidge would be easy, but of course Keith had to go and get his wrist-sensor setoff.

_Stupid._

It’s when Pidge is halfway to the vent, her fingers reaching out- that Keith gets shot in the right foot.

Keith yelps, leg almost collapsing under him, but he locks his knees and hoists Pidge higher, straining as she pries the vent open, throwing the cover to the ground with a loud _‘clang’_. Then Keith’s giving Pidge a final boost and she’s clambering into the vent.

Safe, Pidge is safe.

 _“Keith,”_ Pidge says, reaching back out for him, “it’s big enough for you to fit—” she starts, eyes earnest, but then Keith is being tackled to the floor and getting the wind knocked out of him.

It’s a blurry couple of ticks, Keith’s head smacks into the floor and his lungs seize for a moment and he’s pretty sure he lost his knife somewhere on his way down to the ground, but when Keith can finally see again it’s to Hunk’s slightly worried face.

“Sorry man,” the Yellow Paladin says, “didn’t mean to hit you so hard.”

Lance comes into view then, still panting and glaring at Keith, “I’d say he deserves it for making us run that whole way, yeesh,” he complains.

Keith blinks up at them and then glances to the open vent, Pidge is gone.

Good.

“So, you kill me now?” Keith asks, his ears still ringing.

“Nah man,” Hunk says, “we’ve been taking hostages,” he informs with a shrug.

And then Lance is pulling out cybernetic handcuffs and Keith doesn’t even fight him when he puts them on his wrists. He does, however, kick up a fuss when Lance pulls out a second pair to lace around Keith’s ankles.

“I can’t _walk_ like this,” Keith growls.

“That’s alright buddy,” Hunk says with a smile, and then he’s hefting Keith up and slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.   

Keith groans in utter despair as they start walking; when he looks up Lance is following Hunk and smiling unabashedly up at Keith, eyes twinkling with delight.

“Don’t say a word,” Keith warns him.

Lance doesn’t have to, his laughter says enough.

* * *

Keith’s team does end up winning that round.

It was almost worth the humiliation of having been rescued from where he was being held as a hostage.

Almost.

* * *

They play another round before they’re allowed to take a break for lunch, everyone’s a bit worn out and the way people seem to group up and collapse to the ground with their teammates is a testament to how hard Kolivan has been working everybody.

Keith is sore in some places and scuffed up on others, but he can’t find it in himself to care, not when those bruises were earned in a fulfilling way, not when his chest feels lighter than it has in weeks and he doesn’t feel so disconnected from himself.

Keith’s grabbing a water-pouch and resigning himself to eating whatever the Blade’s brought with them when he turns around to find Allura standing there.

“Uh,” Keith blinks at her, caught off guard, “hi,” he settles on.

“We were all wondering if you’d like to join us for lunch,” Allura says, her hands laced in front of her as she rocks on the balls of her feet.

Keith’s mouth falls open- if he felt caught off guard _before_. Floundering for only a moment he finally says, “yeah,” clearing his throat when it comes out too choked. “Yeah, of course.”

Allura smiles then, bright and pleased, and Keith wonders if she really thought he’d decline the offer. It makes something twist in Keith’s gut, something sharp and prodding that says- _‘you put that distance there, you did this.’_

Keith ignores the emotions building in his stomach and follows Allura through the throngs of people.

“Hey man,” Lance greets when Keith comes into view, talking around the food in his mouth. “Last round was _crazy,”_ he says.

Keith smiles as he sits down between Lance and Pidge, knees lightly knocking against theirs’, they had left a space for Keith, he tries not to think too hard about that.

“Yeah, it was,” Keith agrees. The whole Base had been put on lockdown, and then the power had gone out a few moments later. Leaving some people trapped and others sealed off.

“Kolivan likes to keep us on our toes,” Matt says from his place next to Pidge, he’s laying on his back with an arm slung over his eyes, one of his boots pressed against Shiro’s thigh.

They’re all sat in a semi-circle, close enough that they brush shoulders and elbows, but it doesn’t feel invasive or like a breach of personal space.  
Not with them, not with his old team.

“What are you eating Keith?” Hunk asks, leaning over to inspect Keith’s slab of meat and scoop of vegetables. It looks anything but appetizing.  

“I…” Keith starts, poking at the meat with his spork and trying not to make a face, “I don’t know.”

“Nope,” Hunk says and then he’s stealing Keith’s tray and making little _‘tsk’_ noises as he rummages around in what might be considered a space-cooler. Pulling out red tupperware and thrusting it at Keith a tick later. “This is what you’re eating,” he says.

Keith pulls off the lid to find a fully packed lunch, he doesn’t recognize most of it, (though that’s the norm in space) but it was obviously prepared by Hunk, there’s a sandwich and some fruit and berries, even what Keith thinks is a cookie.

As Keith glances around at the other’s he realizes they’re all eating a variation of the same thing. Shiro with his black tupperware, Allura with pink, Matt with orange. And Keith looks down at his red tupperware and holds himself very, very still.

Hunk packed him a lunch.

Hunk had thought to make Keith his own meal.

Keith takes a breath before he looks up, “thanks Hunk,” he says, soft.

Hunk smiles, his eyes dark and _knowing_. “No problem buddy,” he says, and Keith thinks maybe Hunk knows the significance of this small gesture because he sits close enough to Keith that their ankles brush for the rest of the meal.

Keith doesn’t pull away this time, can’t stand the thought of it; and throughout the rest of lunch, he tries his best not to rethink his choices. 

* * *

It’s the last round and Keith is ready to get this over with.

Not that he hasn’t enjoyed today thoroughly, it’s just been a lot to deal with, Keith is tired after six hours of off and on training. He’s been surrounded by people all day and noise and chaos, and Keith wants to lay down and Take A Nap.

He’s on the Blue Team this time, which is a nice change of pace, he’s been on the Red Team three times in a row and Keith has gotten a bit tired of defending the Base from an outside attack.

Keith stretches his stiff shoulders, reaching above his head with a huff before he goes to find his friends to see who is on what team. At this point it’s become routine, go get your team assignment, then gather at the furthest bench to compare with the others.

Keith’s in the middle of stifling down a yawn when he comes up to the group, everyone’s here, including Shuriim, Kech’ll, and Arrkim. They’re gathered in a tight circle which is odd, what is even weirder though, is the way they all quiet when Keith approaches.

He stops a few steps away from them, raising an eyebrow before they all turn to him with devious expressions. Everyone has an amused if not borderline evil smirk on their face or flare in their eye.

It takes Keith a moment to see Matt on the edge of the group with an ill expression on his face, it takes Keith an even longer moment to spot the Blue armband wrapped around Matt’s shoulder- and then the Red armbands that wrap around everyone else’s.

Keith freezes for a tick, his eyes scanning over everyone’s armbands, -once, twice, _three times_ \- willing his eyes to be wrong. He feels a spark of hope when he spots another patch of blue among all the red, but then Keith traces the arm up and finds Hunk.

Hunk, who doesn’t technically count, because he refused to participate in the bet.

Because Hunk has a thing called self-preservation. 

Taking a second to soak in the situation Keith gives a slow blink, and then he stalks forward and grabs Matt without a word, dragging the other boy off as the rest of the group watches after them.

 _“Heckin’ ruggle,”_ Matt curses when they’re out of earshot, he still looks kind of pale, his eyes just a tad too wide. “I thought I was gonna be the only one,” he says.

Keith lets go of Matt and takes a step back, trying to reel in his thoughts, he feels out of his depth, he’s too tired and too worn out to deal with this. _“How…?”_ he finally chokes out.

Matt frantically shakes his head, staring down at his feet, “I don’t know man,” he says, “Pidge and I got our assignments together and when we headed back Allura and Shiro were also on Team Red, then Lance showed up and then your Blade buddies- and-and _I don’t know_.”

They both stand there internally panicking for what Keith thinks is an appropriate amount of time considering their current situation.

“We have to stick together,” Keith says eventually, leaning towards Matt. “We have to have each other’s backs,” he goes on.

Matt nods, he looks a little hysterical. “Yeah- of course- for sure,” he mumbles, and then they fall silent again.

“We’re gonna get so creamed,” Matt finally says.

“Yup,” Keith agrees. 

* * *

Things…Things did not go according to plan.

The long version is; Keith and his team were ambushed by the enemy. 

Keith’s team had split into two large groups, hoping that if they came from two different directions their sheer numbers would overwhelm whoever might be protecting the flag, and they could get an easy win.

They had not accounted for the silent alarms that Pidge had set up in their planning however, and ultimately that will be what’ll cost them the round.

Pidge will always be the main denominator.

Always.

The other team had seemingly come out of nowhere and cut Team Blue off and cornered them. It had been a metaphorical bloodbath after that, people screaming and yelling, mock-shots and false-blades flying and clashing together in a constant ring of background noise.

It was pure chaos.

The short version is; Keith is screwed.

Utterly and completely screwed.

He has no idea where Matt is, they were supposed to stick together, watch each other’s backs, but somewhere in the middle of the fray they got separated and Keith hasn’t been able to spot the other boy since.

He’s been pushed into the adjoining hallway where the fighting is less crowded, his blade striking his opponent’s chest-sensor before Keith is spinning around to take on his next foe, not even bothering to watch the Red Teamer fall.

That’s when Keith spots Pidge and Arrkim at the end of the corridor, Pidge smirking behind the glass of her helmet and Arrkim giving Keith a small teasing wave.

“Hello Keith,” Arrkim greets, the words purred.

Keith’s stomach drops at seeing them, he takes a breath, trying to steady himself. And then he rushes in without a word, hoping that if he makes the first move he’ll have an easier time gaining the upper hand.

Keith runs forward before dropping and skidding along the floor on his knees, twisting around to come up behind Arrkim and Pidge in one of Keith’s fancier moves. Arrkim is more ready than Pidge in that moment, Keith feels a little guilty at striking the sensor at Pidge’s ankle- not bad enough to stop though.

Pidge stumbles at the blow, hissing a breath through her teeth as she turns to face Keith- she may be off balance now, but her anger only makes her stronger- or so Lance would claim.

Arrkim swings out with her blade in a wide-ark, the tip of it coming far too close to Keith’s nose. He knows that was a warning of sorts, she could have tagged one of his sensors if she _wanted_ to, and she is making sure that Keith _knows it._

Keith pants out a breath as he rolls away, holding his knife in a defensive position in front of him. He’s tired and sore, definitely not at his best, and certainly not up for taking on two people at once.

He’s not sure he can win this fight.

“Might as well quit while you’re ahead,” Pidge taunts him.

“Yeah right,” Keith huffs out.

Arrkim barks a laugh at the exchange, her head tipping back with her amusement. Keith is in the middle of wondering what is so funny when she twists around, flinging her knife out at him a mere tick later.

Keith’s breath stutters on a gasp as he jerks to the side, his heart pounding, but it isn’t enough, the blade catches him on the shoulder of his left arm- his limb going heavy and numb an instant after.  

Keith grits his teeth and kicks Arrkim’s knife away, prolonging her retrieval of it by a couple of ticks. It’s a petty move, but Keith feels like he has the right to be a little petty after she pulled something like that.

“Hm,” Arrkim hums, cocking her head to the side, seeming pleased with herself, or maybe she can sense Keith’s irritation.

Either way, Keith feels warranted when he growls at her.

Pidge and Arrkim come running at Keith at the same time, Arrkim with her long spring-full strides, and Pidge with a fire in her eye and a limp in her foot. 

Keith tucks and rolls, leaping to his feet as he comes closer and slicing out in the same move. Pidge yelps but Arrkim only dodges, ducking down and sweeping Keith’s feet from under him as she goes to grab her sword.

Blood rushes to Keith’s ears as he hits the ground, but he’s rolling a tick later, just scarcely missing a stab of Pidge’s dagger.

“Gonna pay for tagging my leg,” Pidge mutters to Keith.

“I saved you earlier,” Keith reminds.

“Nope,” Pidge says, “don’t remember, didn’t happen.”

Keith huffs a laugh at the familiar words, “that seems to be a running theme,” he says as he lashes back out.

It goes like that for longer than Keith thought it would, he puts up the best fight he can in the situation, outnumbered and with only one fully-functional arm.

He stays on the defensive as much as possible, aware that if he isn’t careful Arrkim or Pidge are going to sneak up behind him or take advantage of his blind-spot.

 _Quiznak_ he wishes Matt were here.

However, at some point, it was bound to go downhill for Keith, no matter how hard he fought, it was honestly inevitable, it would only take a minor mistake on his part.  

Keith is poised to hit Pidge’s main-sensor, mere inches away from succeeding when something smacks him hard on the shoulder-blade, surprising Keith enough that Pidge is able to wrap her foot around his ankle and pull Keith off balance.

They both tumble forward in a sprawl of limbs, yelping as they land hard on the ground. Keith’s right hip-sensor gets set off in the scuffle and his entire leg tingles before he starts to lose the feeling in it, he is now down two limbs.

Fantastic.  

Keith twists off Pidge and hits her chest-sensor at the same time, rolling to the side as Arrkim pounces on him. Keith doesn’t even have time to get his feet under him. Arrkim kicks his blade from his hand and pins him a tick later, her masked-face far too close to his own.

They stay there staring at each other for a tense moment before Arrkim leans down slowly and sets off Keith’s elbow-sensor on his right arm, the slight tingling numbness pulses up to his shoulder and down to his fingers.

“Don’t play with me,” Keith huffs, peeved. “Just finish me already.” 

Arrkim chuckles over an exhale, “where’s the fun in that?” she asks before she stands back up, towering over Keith. “Come Pidge,” she says, “we are done here.”

Pidge’s eyes are gleaming with amusement as she stands and dusts herself off, out of the round, but not seeming to care. “Good luck Keith,” she laughs, and then the two just stroll away, _just-just_ walk away as if they hadn’t been in a tense fight just seconds ago.

“…what,” Keith says to the empty hallway.

* * *

Here’s the thing.

Keith knows he isn’t going to win this round, he’s pretty sure he’s also lost both bets at this point too, but if he’s being honest he hasn’t been keeping track of who is winning what bet(s) for a while now.

There’re just too many people to account for, Keith can’t remember where he is on the scoreboard, and he can’t find it in himself to really care either.

That’s not what this is about.

At this point, it’s just about keeping a shred of his dignity intact.

That’s why Keith forces himself up, that’s why he limps away from the battle still going on down the hall, that’s why he grits his teeth and tries to make it back to home-base where he can sit the rest of this round out and pretend he didn’t just get his ass handed to him.

It’s probably the coward’s way out, but Keith wouldn’t be anything other than a liability at this point, he can either drag himself away to lick his wounds or go back into the fight while heavily injured.

There isn’t any choice in that.

He’s panting hard from the strain of dragging himself through the halls, trying to be as stealthy as he can manage with only one fully-functional limb as he sneaks past one corner to the next.

If this wasn’t the last round, if Arrkim hadn’t purposely left Keith downed like this, maybe he’d just cut his losses and tap his own main-sensor, quit while he can.

But Arrkim had done this to specifically mess with Keith.

And Keith will never back down from a challenge.

He’s about two rings out from their home-base, -something like hope fluttering teasingly in his chest- when Keith turns a corner and almost smacks right into someone’s back.

Someone with a red-band wrapped around their arm.

Keith only has an instant to take in the Blue Paladin Armor that the other person wears before Lance is turning around.

When Lance finds Keith behind him his face absolutely lights up, “fancy meetin’ you here,” he says around his broad smile, his joy practically seeping from him.

Keith feels his eyes go wide behind his mask, feels his next breath stutter in his lungs, feels his brain screaming for something- _anything_ he can do.

Keith doesn’t think, just grips his mock-blade as tightly as he can manage with his semi-functional arm and flops it forward as best he can, trying to tag Lance with the uncoordinated movement.

By some miracle or perhaps just dumb luck- Keith actually hits the elbow-sensor on Lance’s arm.  

Lance seems more shocked than angry when Keith sets off his sensor, but Keith doesn’t waste time sticking around, just turns as quickly as he is capable with one numb leg weighing him down and starts dragging himself in the opposite direction.

 _“Dude,”_ Lance wheezes from behind Keith, he sounds like he’s in pain, but when Keith glances back he realizes that Lance is actually _laughing._

He’s laughing at Keith.

The _quiznaker_.

 _“Shuddup,”_ Keith calls back, determinedly still limping away from Lance and pretending that he actually has a chance of making it out of this situation.

 _“Oh my god, oh my god,”_ Lance is trying to follow Keith, but he has to stop so he can catch his breath after a few feet, hunched over and gasping for air. “Keith, man, I wish you could see what you _look_ like-” he breaks off again to giggle into his elbow.

Keith huffs through his teeth and keeps moving, going a bit faster now that he has momentum. Even with all his effort though, Keith is only going a walking-pace. Normally while Lance might be able to outrun Keith, Keith can endure much longer than Lance, and half the time that’s just as good.

Now Keith doesn’t even stand a chance.

He hates Arrkim.

 _Hates_ her.

“I found Keith guys,” Lance pants into his comm, and Keith feels his stomach plummet. “You gotta- _oh god_ -you guys better get over here.”

Keith turns the next corner, panicking slightly and not even sure why- he’s already lost, he _knows_ he’s already lost, but to have seven other people come after him when he only has one leg to stand on (quite literally) makes Keith feel a little helpless.

Keith does not do well with the feeling of helplessness.

At this point, Keith is just trying to lose Lance by turning one sharp corner after another, but even with Lance falling over himself laughing he doesn’t seem to have trouble trailing Keith.

It’s infuriating.

“I hate you all,” Keith tells Lance.

“We love you too,” Lance says right back.

Keith isn’t sure how long he’s been stuck in this little odd game of cat and mouse when he hears running footsteps coming straight for them. But he freezes mid-step, ignoring Lance’s gleeful look aimed at his back.

When Keith first sees Shiro he feels his stomach fall to his feet.

When Keith sees the other’s a tick later- Shuriim and Kech’ll on opposite sides, Allura and Arrkim holding a despondent Matt up above their heads like a trophy, Pidge and Hunk both cheering- Keith feels something very close to actual fear.

Which is why Keith doesn’t hesitate to hit his own main-sensor, it may disqualify him from the exercise, but it also brings his limbs back to life.

And then, Keith turns and _runs._

There’s an uproar of protesting laughter from behind Keith, but he doesn’t care, doesn’t look back, he just pushes through the pins and needles assaulting his right leg and arms and _books-it._

They all chase after him, -because of course they do, Keith would be surprised if they didn’t- a herd of yelling and shouting predators chasing after their prey.

Keith is not used to being prey.

It’s when Keith chances a look behind him- Lance and Shiro gaining on him, the other’s not too far behind, -that he feels butterflies burst in his chest, so many fluttering around inside that Keith convulsively swallows so they don’t force their way out of his throat in a scream.

It’s in that next moment that Lance tries to trip him, that Pidge throws her fake-dagger at Keith, that Shuriim calls something teasing- that Shiro takes his chance and _pounces._

When Shiro collides with Keith, sending them both tumbling to the ground, Keith can’t contain the shout that’s been building in his chest. They go down in a messy sprawl of limbs, Keith’s shriek cutting off as Shiro jabs his ribs in a malicious manner.

Keith gasps around an involuntary laugh, kicking out and writhing under Shiro’s evil fingers.

The next dobash or so is a little bit fuzzy for Keith.

All he knows is that he ends up bound and held above everyone’s heads as a human-prize, Shiro, Hunk, and Lance’s hands supporting him as the group hollers and cheers down the hallway, carrying Matt and Keith off.

Keith lets himself be carried, he doesn’t struggle or protest- not that he’d be heard over the joyful cries of the rest of his friends- he just compiles and lets it happen, sinking into the fingers that hold him up.  

Keith turns his head to Matt, allowing his mask to fall as he looks at the other boy with an eyebrow quirk of solidarity. It’s a little odd being held above the ground with only the hands of other people to catch him, having to put his trust in others to make sure Keith doesn’t fall; Keith wonders if Matt feels the same.

“I think we lost,” Matt says after a moment.

Keith doesn’t even try to burry down his spluttering laughter.

* * *

**Epilogue-**

Keith looks down at his tray of food and tries to convince himself that it must be edible, there’s something that looks like cranberry-sauce (which is almost more concerning than appetizing) some white worm-things, and a scoop of orange grain.

There’s also some sort of pastry, but Keith doesn’t actually get to eat that.

“Come, sit,” Arrkim calls to Keith, smiling toothily at him as she waves a clawed hand.

Keith plops himself down at their corner table with a mumbled greeting, poking at his ‘food’ with a spork, he decides that he’ll forgo the worms, but he’ll force himself to try the not-cranberries.

“You should eat all you can,” Kech’ll notes after a few moments have passed, “you need nourishment.” The three other Blades have started to notice Keith’s distaste for the food here, it’s become a sort of sore subject for Keith.

“Yes,” Shuriim pipes in, “you are too small to skip meals,” he says.

The way Shuriim’s words are always hissed had made it hard to tell when he was being sarcastic back when Keith first joined the Blade, but now Keith’s spent enough time with him to know when Shuriim’s teasing.

“I’m not small,” Keith grumbles and then shoves some of the rice-like stuff in his mouth.

“Runt of the litter,” Shuriim says back.

 _“I could take you,”_ Keith retorts.

Shuriim’s milky eyes light up. “Oh yes?” he asks, “we shall see in combat tomorrow.”

Keith swallows down another bite and jabs his spork in Shuriim’s direction, “you’re on,” he says.

They don’t talk much as they continue eating, but they don’t need to. There’s no reason to fill the silence with idle chatter, no one feels uncomfortable by the quiet, no one feels unsettled by it- and it’s little things like that that make Keith wonder if he would have fit in better being raised by Galra rather than Humans.

There’s no use questioning those types of things though.

What is done is done.

It’s when Kech’ll pointedly clears her throat that both Arrkim and Shuriim pass over their dessert, a moment later Keith wordlessly slides his over to Shuriim.

It’s been about five days of this now, at dinner time Kech’ll has the rights to Arrkim and Shuriim’s sweets, while Shuriim has claim to Keith’s.

That’s alright though, because Keith had gotten a surprise package from Hunk yesterday; a bag full of cookies and a few cupcakes that Hunk had baked for Keith- Keith hadn’t won that bet either, but it seems that Hunk sent him desserts anyway.

The bag is still hidden in the draw under Keith’s bunk, safely tucked away where Keith can dip into his candy stash whenever he pleases.

“Ah,” Kech’ll purrs as she takes a bite of one of her little cakes, “the sweet taste of victory.”

If Galra had pupils Keith thinks Arrkim would be rolling her eyes right now, she somehow manages to convey the same response though, so maybe she doesn’t actually need pupils. 

“Here Keith,” Kech’ll passes one of her three desserts to him, “if you will not try the boggo, at least eat this.”

Keith takes the little cake and watches as Shuriim’s eyes squint at him from across the table. Keith’s pretty sure they have essentially just traded desserts at this point, it’s kind of ridiculous.

Keith doesn’t break eye contact with Shuriim as he takes his first bite, the oddly bitter taste is worth the look Shuriim gives him, his tail smacking at Keith from under the table.

“You watch yourself, kit,” Shuriim threatens, but it’s all play.

Keith takes an even bigger bite of the sour-cake just to spite Shuriim, and though it might leave a gross taste in Keith’s mouth he doesn’t mind, Kech’ll’s right, it does sort of taste like victory.

**Author's Note:**

> It was about _time_ I posted an actual fic in this fandom and not just a missing scene fic!
> 
> Please drop a comment and let me know if you enjoyed this odd concept, also, if you'd like to see my Galra OCs again? I think they'll be poppin' up at random from now on. 
> 
> Anydoodles, until next time, _Fernandidilly-yo is outta here!_


End file.
